Mama


here I am
in the ground
my mouth
open
and
I can’t even say
mama,
and
The dogs run by and stop and piss
On my stone; I get it all
Except the sun
And my suit is looking
bad
And yesterday
the last of my left
arm gone
Very little left, all harp-like
Without music.

At least a drunk
In bed with a cigarette
Might cause 5 fire
engines and
33 men.

I can’t
do
any
thing.

But p. s. Hector Richmond in the next
Tomb thinks only of Mozart and candy
Caterpillars.
he is
very bad
company.


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Mama